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COFYRKUIT DKl'OSIT. 



WAYS OF MEN 



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WAYS OF MEN 



BY 

SAMUEL HARLEY LYLE. JR. 

Author of "Leaves of Life". 



FRANKLIN, N. C. 

SAMUEL H. LYLE. JR.. Publisher 
1911 






Copyright, 1911, by 
Samuel H. Lyle, Jr. 



Franklin Job Printery 
Franklin, N. C. 



3CI.A28'3918 






TO MY FATHER 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Proem 10 

Fame 15 

The Work of God 16 

Callof theSea , 18 

A Song of the Road 19 

Tout Le Monde A Moi 21 

' 'And Wintry Milk Is In Her Breast' ' 22 

Where Fairies Play 23 

A Plain Man's Prayer 25 

At the Setting of the Sun 26 

Vain Questioning 28 

My Ship of Dreams 29 

Remorse 30 

Aux Armes 31 

Outside of Books 32 

Incomprehension 33 

Orthodoxy 34 

Life's Victors 35 

My All 36 

A Cry In the Night 37 

A Kiss 38 

Little Heart BeStill 39 

Love and Desire 41 



CONTENTS— Continued 

PAGE 

We Know Not Why 42 

The Altars of Greed 43 

Awakening 45 

Viola Gordon Here's to You! 46 

Surcease 47 

Vague Rememberings 48 

We Shall Return No More 49 

A Prayer 50 

Love's Sacrifice 51 

A Man's Charity 52 

Moral Weakness 54 

A Letter From You 55 

A Dead Day 56 

A Blithesome Knight Was He 57 

Many Many Years Ago 59 

The Poet's Plaint 60 

Lost On the Desert 61 

To A Friend I Have Never Met 62 

The Craven's Part 63 

One Ship Sails Home 64 

Daybreak 65 

Dead 66 

Pax Vobiscum 68 



CONTENTS-Continued 

PAGE 

Sundered 69 

Somewhere the Day Is Bright 70 

Quatrains 

I— Response 71 

II-A Brother to the Ox 71 

Ill-Futility 71 

IV— A Parting 71 

V — Incomprehension 72 

Vl-Contrast 72 

VII— Tears 72 

L'Envoi 73 



PROEM 

By the untrod ways at the base of the hills 

Where lymphs and Fairies play. 
And the nights come on with a rush of stars 

At the close of the sunlit day; 
By the drowsy drone of the village lane^ 

Where a lass and her swain have met 
In the dew-dright dawn of Love's first dream, 

And Life is true to them yet; 
By the restful fire of furnace light 

Where Toil, and Lust, and Fame 
Have brought no tears in the passing years. 

And there is no blight, no stain; 
By the evening glow of farm-house lamp. 

And the Quiet and Plenty there. 
By the men who rise to the taslc at dawn. 

And the women ever fair; 
By the God-given peace of the home-hearth fire, 

With Love, and Purity, and Light, 
Where the little ones pray at Mother's hue. 

And baby lips lisp, '' Good-night F' 
By the fear-fed halls of Pomp and Fame 

Where dark men, power-spurred, 
Send forth the Lie that rules the world. 

And mould the Untrue W^ord; 
By the rcd-dycd fields of battle strife 

Where Hate and Bloodthirst reign. 
By flash of steel and powder-reek. 



By horror -stricken Pain; 
By Vie shriek and roar of factory wheels. 

Where the Altars of Greed are red. 
Where the sacrifice is Human Flesh, 

And the Gods arc never fed; 
By the way ward paths of Sin and Hate, 

With naught to bring surcease, 
Where wanton men are wont to stray. 

And mar God's work of Peace; 
By the maddening roar of city streets. 

The gloss, the glitter, the glare. 
By all the pools of Stagnant Filth 

That men must needs deem fair; 
By the crimson lure of Red- Light Hells, 

Wliere Love is a putrid name. 
And FLonor is bound to the God of Lust, 

And Purity is sold to Shame; 
By waving palm, and spreading fir. 

By mountain height and plain, 
By all the untracked ways across 

The ever-boundless Main; 
By rushing waters in the South, 

By white-flecked plains of the West, 
By the somber wastes of Xo-Man's Land, 

And the Cities of Unrest; 
By many ways with many men 

Throughout this wayward earth. 
By paths of Sorrow, deeds of Sin, 

By Pain or riotous .Uirth, 
Much evil in the mystic maze 



I find, and much of Hate, 
And I have wept with hreaMng hearts, 

And laughed where Joy hath sate, — 
But in it all I find one fact 

Of man's Eternal Right, 
As in the darkest night appears 

Somewhere a ray of light; 
And I can smile upon the world. 

The talcing and the giving. 
While in my heart swells high and full 

The wild, fierce joy of living! 



WAYS OF MEN 



FAME 

When I consider all the works that men 

Have wrought, and how they vanish like 

the sands 
Of castles built by careless childhood hands 
Along the shore, —the toil, the pain, and then 
A little breeze from out the starless night, 
And all that's left is but an empty name 
In after years that other men call Fame, 

And pause to marvel at the wondrous sight, - 
My heart grows sad and heavy in my breast 
To see what gods the world bows down before, 
And how men honor, not the well done task, 
But cry out to the thing still unexprest, 
And do not learn from all their boasted lore 
That Death parades behind Fame's flaunt- 
ing mask. 



15 



THE WORK OF GOD 

God took the nothingness of space 
And made the universe; then paused, 
And looked upon His work, and found 
It good. But God was discontent, 
Perceiving how His great dream-world 
Lay masterless— and God made man. 

Man stood beneath the stars, and felt 
The awful mystery of life. 
And feared, and fell upon his face 
And worshiped God; then rose and went 
His way, and soon forgot. 

And man 
Waxed great in wisdom of the world. 
And rose up in his littleness 
Of soul, and mocked the work of God, 
And cried, ''Behold! The thing is wrong; 
It should be thus!'' And he hath played. 
The weakling man, at being God 
Himself, and shouts his arrogance 
Throughout the earth, and worships at 
The shrine of his own vanity. 

But God is great, and wise, and just, 
And, pitying, looks down upon 
The sin-led race, withholding still 
His dread, eternal wrath. 

16 



And man 
Walks on in wrong-, and scorns the right, 
Unheeding that the work is God's, 
The punishment and the reward; 
He hails the sun, looks out across 
The broad, fair land, stands by the sea 
And hears the angry waters roar, 
And finds no promise in them all— 
And in the blindness of his soul 
Cries out that God is but a name. 
An empty name to trick the world! 



17 



CALL OF THE SEA 

The lapping waves that plash along the beach, 

Incessantly they call to me 
In murmuring cry that breaks upon my sleep. 

Calling, calling back to the sea. 

The little silver fishes trekking through 
Dim ocean aisles where mermaids rest, 

They beckon through my dreams, my night-sprung 
dreams, 
Calling, calling the sea's white breast. 

The wild, fierce winds that fret across thy wastes, 
Thy gale-fed wastes, they pause a-roam. 

Pause, and hail at the gates of sleep, Sea, 
Calling, calling thy storm-tossed foam. 

Up-breathed from the deep thy clear- toned cadence 
has come, 
Bringing a message of power to me, 
A message of strength, of scope, — thy great heart's 
cry 
Calling, calling to mine, Sea! 



18 



A SONG OF THE ROAD 

A lashing fringe of dripping hedge 

Along the wet roadway; 
The night shuts in with thunder's din. 

And lightnings flame and play. 

A wanderer over the world am I, 

With never a tie to bind; 
I sing a song as I swing along, 

Nor care for storm or wind. 

Oh, what avails the wild wind's roar, 

Or lightning's flash and flare? 
Somewhere, I know, a light burns low. 

And a woman is waiting there. 

Somewhere beyond the Hills of Doubt, 
In the Valley Where Dreams Come True, 

Flowers are bright as the starlit night. 
And skies are clear and blue. 

The Past is dead in the dust of things, 

The Present an empty cry; 
We may weep to-night, but the morrow's light 

Will bring a cloudless sky. 



19 



Beyond the hills a light burns low, 

And a woman is waiting there; 
A laugh for the rain, the stress and the pain, 

The morrow, I know, dawns fair! 



20 



TOUT LE MONDE A MOI 

You are all the world to me, dear heart, — 
A rose that glows the morn's delight, 

A song that cheers the road by day, 
A star to guide me through the night. 

There is no world but you, dear heart, — 
No dew-gemmed morn could dawn so fair, 

No way could be so sweet with song 
In any world, were you not there! 



21 



"AND WINTRY MILK IS IN HER BREAST'^ 

Returning after many years, I gaze 
Across the wide-spread fields my boyhood knew, 
The fields I once had roamed from morning's dew 
Till evening furled her softly shadowed haze 
About the earth. —Ah, how the old-time days 
Come trooping back, and all the ancient ways 
Are crying to my feet, and call anew 
The heart, far-strayed, that still is pulsing true. 

Across my throbbing brain a dark, dim sheet 
Seems spread, on which is graved a burning word, 
The word of striving greed that I had heard. 

Ambition's spur, exhorting Love's defeat 
In struggling fight to fame. — And I have won— 
Would I were still a boy with God's warm sun! 



22 



WHERE FAIRIES PLAY 

When sunset shadows fall across 
The glade, and bees are homeward bound, 

And all the forest rings aloud 
With evening's symphony of sound; 

When birds are singing good-night songs, 
And swallows come on circling wing. 

And from the marsh the frogs' deep lays 
In hoarse and rumbling cadence ring,— 

*Tis then I lie beneath the trees. 

Where golden moonbeams glint and glance; 
And from the forest glides a troupe 

Of fairies in a mystic dance. 

In maddest riot of reckless glee 
They whirl and trip about the vale; 

And some are dandies in fine silks. 
And some are knights in tested mail. 

And little lady-fairies, too. 
Are there, pretty beyond impeach; 

And they can coquet with a fan, 
Or blush before a whispered speech. 



23 



Each little lady has her knight, 
Each knight his winsome fairy lass; 

Their voices rise in gayest mirth, 
Tripping about the warm, sweet grass. 

All night beneath the brooding moon 
The fairies play, and pleasure rings, 

Till at the dawn they slip away, 
And leave the world to baser things. 



24 



A PLAIN MAN'S PRAYER 

Not for the riches men have sought, 

Lord, to Thee I pray. 
Not for the fame dishonored brought. 

Nor yet the rose-strewn way. 
Give me but strength to meet the task 

That falls my humble share; 
'Tis this great boon, God, I ask. 

And wisdom to forbear 
The things that have not Thee in awe. 

Teach me to know the Light, 
To guard unstained Thine Ancient Law, 

And battle for the Right; 
To face Life's blows with sturdy heart, 

Scorning the evil bent. 
Teach me how well to do my part. 

And, Lord, I am content! 



25 



AT THE SETTING OF THE SUN 

Ssems like the old sun's sorter hitched 

Up in the sky some way; 
She ain't got more'n half the clip 

She had jest yesterday. 

She kinder fools and fiddles along— 
Oh, there's a reason plain!— 

My Mary's goin' to come at dusk 
To meet me in the lane. 

And Mary she's the finest girl 

That ever trod the earth- 
There ain't no langwige yet been writ 
That'd half tell Mary's worth. 

Jest fire away, old sun, and shine, 
You've got to set sometime; 

And Mary's goin' to meet me when 
The sheep-bells homeward chime. 

There ain't no other girl like Mary; 

They never made but one. 
And she'll be waiting in the lane 

At the setting of the sun. 



26 



Oh, she's my only girl, and Fm 
Her steady man, you bet! 

And- Well, Fm blowed, it's comin' night- 
Blamed if the sun ain't set! 



27 



VAIN QUESTIONING 

The tale to tell,— a few bright years, 

Winged in with fire of flowers, 
A lure of light, not many tears. 

Love's mead of wanton hours. 
And youth has passed on flying feet. 

Then calm shall come; not yet 
Has dawned the hour of Love's retreat. 

The years, should we regret. 
Could pour no balm to soothe a pain 

That is of joy, not strife, 
A pain of loss, seeking to gain 

A deeper touch of Life. 

What more the years may mean of gain 

We shall not know; 'tis good 
That we have learned a quiet disdain 

Of things not understood 
By little men, blind ants, who preach 

Skyward, earth facts behind. 
Expounding creeds beyond the reach 

Of man's quite earthly mind. 
We have no answer; what avail 

The doubt, since Life is so? 
No man can know the mystic tale. 

Nor has he need to know. 



28 



MY SHIP OF DREAMS 

Wearied by all the wild brain-shapes 

Crowding the silent hours, 
At dawn I fell into a sleep, 

And dreamed a world of flowers. 

I stood beside a silver stream 

That poured into a sea; 
And over the water a ship sprang up, 

Sailing home to me. 

My ship of dreams! The years cried back. 

Cried back and memory fled — 
Breasting the waves with joyous prow, 

Onward the fair ship sped! 

Did the brave bark wharf? Out of the dawn 

A bird-cry broke my dream. 
I turned to the sun athwart my floor — 

But where was the silver stream? 

My ship, my long-sent ship of dreams, 
Has she gone on some fierce shoal, 

Or, warring still the turbid seas, 
Will she make, at last, the goal? 



29 



REMORSE 

And you, dear woman of the past, whose eyes 

Turn back asross the blurring years to meet 
Me at the door of yesterday, if skies, 

Were angry storm-kings now their wrath repeat. 
Had still gleamed blue after we passed the gate 

Of human love, divinely true and tried. 
Could you have followed then, laughing at fate. 

Through barren lands where world-whipped men 
abide? 

It was enough that we should love, and then 
Forget, life having shown only the way 

Where flowers blow, and Nature wields the pen 
That writes the joys of little fools each day; 

And we drank to the depths, submerging all 

In one great passion riot— and then the fall! 



AUX ARMES 

Oh, tell me not the hope recedes 
That held of former years; 

Life is not made of idle deeds, 
What need for idle fears? 

We may not always meet the blows 
As would, perhaps, seem fit; 

But brave hearts do not know to lose. 
Only the cravens quit. 

What boots it if the foe to-day 

Has beat us to the earth? 
The morrow brings a newer fray, 

A newer strength has birth. 

We cannot lose, if win we will, 
Brave hearts shall never die. 

To arms! The foe is with us still! 
Who cares what flag he fly? 



31 



OUTSIDE OF BOOKS 

I ain't so good at 'rithmetic, 

And reading's pretty slow; 
But there's some things not writ in books, 

And they're the things I know. 

When I have worked hard all the day 

Out harvesting the grain, 
And the sun has set behind the hills 

That bound the western plain, 
And I walk home through the falling dusk, 

And hear the crickets call. 
My heart begins to swell and swell. 

And I'm mighty glad for all 
The blessings that I've got; and life 

Seems only fair and bright 
When I climb up the hill and look 

Down to the streaming light 
Where Mary's got the supper hot. 

And kettles steam and hiss — 
And at the door I know she waits 

To meet me with a kiss! 

I'm not much of a hand at books. 

And things like that, I guess; 
But when it comes to living, —well, 

I just know happiness! 

32 



INCOMPREHENSION 

When I consider all my years of life, — 

The days of mystic sunlight, shadow barred, 
The nights of wanton joy, of pain, of strife. 

Blue skies that whispered love, divinely starred. 
Commingled with the sting of deeds misdone, 

The evil thoughts that lived when ways were dark. 
The years of doubtful waiting, yet unwon. 

And the eternal end a question mark, — 

When I have pondered thus until the night 
Grows into dawn, passing a fevered hand 

Across my brow, I marvel were the fight 
Once won if I should know to understand; 

For I have tested life, and comprehend 

No part, its aim, its scope, its final end. 



33 



ORTHODOXY 

The folk who dwelt beside the sea 
Climbed up the mountain wall, and gazed 
Out o'er the spreading land; and they 
Were mightily wrought up by what 
Their eyes beheld. 

And one, the chief 
Of all the clan was he, rose up 
And spoke the wisdom of his race: 
"Behold! How lowly have we dwelt! 
Too long our sight has been obscured; 
Shut in by barren cliffs, we lived 
In blindest ignorance of God, 
Who does not stoop to lowly things. 
Else we be damned, let us return 
In haste, take all our goods, and climb 
Up to the mountain height. 'Tis here, 
And here alone, we walk with God!'' 



34 



LIFE'S VICTORS 

For these, the world-applauded ones, the few 

Who dream, and, waiting, realize the dream 
In full fruition, finding all things true 

In Life; the seekers of the rainbow gleam, 
Whose feet have trod the smooth and rose-strewn 
way 

That lies through lands of joy, and leads along 
The fields that bloom with everlasting May, — 

For these. Life's favored ones, I have no song. 

'Tis those who strive, and find the striving gall. 
Replete with failure all the toiling years. 

Yet face the blows and smile, knowing the fall. 
And have no part with cravens or with tears; 

The victors they of Life, counting the cost. 

Who fight, unbeaten still, when all is lost. 



35 



MYALL 

No mansion mine of regal state, 
With grounds of rich display, 

No swinging arch of bronze-built gate. 
No pebble-strewn driveway. 

Just a tiny cot among the trees. 
Where evening shadows play. 

And the whisper of each scented breeze 
Is sweet as a song of May. 

I count no riches, own no gear, 

Or lands, or sheep, or kine; 
My all, the love of one held dear. 

And this small cot of mine. 

And men may strive great wealth to gain, 
And master the heavens above; 

'Tis mine, this cot on a wayside lane, 
And one small woman's love! 



36 



A CRY IN THE NIGHT 

heart of mine, the years have spelt 
In letters wild the Words of Fire; 

In Temples where Pure Love once dwelt 
Burn bloody altars to Desire. 

heart of mine, what brings the day 
In transient mist of fleeting light? 

The Mind is one with crumbling clay, 
A part with man's Eternal Night. 

heart of mine, is there no good 
Where Ignorance lays a craven's ban? 

The Giants have sunk, misunderstood, 
To depths below mere Human Man. 

heart of mine, what means the Deed, 
What is the Unknown Word to say? 

If we have heard we did not heed; 
Lost in the night, groping we stray! 



37 



A KISS 

Back in those other years, 
Dim, dying years that furl 
About remembrances. 
As flying streamers curl 
In fleecy white above the hills 
When August drives a sultry sun, 
It was our lips first touched — 
And Life had just begun! 

We kissed — and radiant day 

Flashed into mystic light. 

And years were naught, and died. 

As stars die in the night! 

Dumb lips that hungered, clung. 

Parted in quivering cry — 

And Fate has drawn a world between, 

Breathing one word— good-by! 



38 



LITTLE HEART BE STILL 

Ah, little heart, be still J 
Your fleeting hour of bliss 

Has gone, as sudden tears 
May go beneath a kiss. 

Ah, little heart, be quiet! 

The years have brought you pain. 
And you have learned to doubt — 

But, little heart, refrain! 

Ah, little heart, why weep? 

Your love was pure as snow; 
You gave it all — and weep! — 

Ah, heart, all love must go! 

Ah, little heart, why grieve? 

You knew no life but love. 
And love has given hate, 

And skies seem dark above, — 

But, little heart, 'tis life, 
And hearts will ever break 

That trust too far in love — 
Ah, little heart, awake! 



39 



Ah, little heart, be still! 

Be still and weep no more; 
The years are yours to make, 

And joy is yet before. 

For, little heart, 'tis best, 
First love to bring you pain; 

And, oh, how sweet when life 
Shall give you love again! 



40 



LOVE AND DESIRE 

Love reached her white arms out to me, 

Her pure eyes deep with holy fire; 
But the Serpent whispered in the grass, 

'It is the voice of hot Desire!" 

I came to Love, and in my hand 

I brought a rose of crimson red. 
Love placed the gift upon her breast— 

I looked, and, lo, the rose lay dead! 

'It is Desire," the Serpent hissed. 

''Sweet Love, alas! lies slain long hence." 
But Love stretched out her arms to me,— 

"And this," she sighed, "doubt's recompense!" 



41 



WE KNOW NOT WHY 

Oh, the years of life and the tears of life, 

And the love of you and me! 
'Tis but a call at evenfall, 

A fleeting memory. 

The days of strife with danger rife, 

The nights of joy and pain, 
Are only cries through empty skies, 

Links in an endless chain. 

We know not why we laugh or sigh 

Along the tortuous way; 
We know but this, —a blow, a kiss. 

Black night, and golden day. 

To-night your breast— and this is rest!— 
Love, somewhere lilies blow! 

We may not say what brings the day, 
And do not need to know! 



42 



THE ALTARS OF GREED 

I stand at dusk beside a smoke-marred lane 
That leads down to a low-built factory town, 
And watch, with aching heart, this man-made hell 
That feeds on human souls. 

A siren tears 
The night, and all the whirring, red-eyed hulks 
Pour forth their spawn of mortal flesh. 

From out 
The crowd a woman-child comes slowly up 
The hill to me, her head bent to the road. 
Her step a slow and dragging tread. Her form 
Is twisted as by some dread malady. 
She pauses at my voice, and raises up 
Her wasted face to mine, her listless eyes 
Blank as a stagnant pool, and on her brow. 
Graved deep in lines of never-ceasing toil, 
I read the dumb, unanswered question of 
The centuries, a question that must rise 
Some day to face the world. She speaks no word, 
But gazes down again, and wearily 
Climbs on the everlasting hill, and knows 
No reason why it is, and could not know 
Or understand. 

Has charity died out 
From all the world that man shall rise to boast 

43 



His works, and such things be? 

Remember Him 
Who trod the thorn-strewn way, and speaking said: 
''Whoso offends one of these little ones, 
'Twere better that a stone were hanged about 
His neck, and he were cast into the depth 
Of all the sea!'' 

The prophecy, a Damoclean sword. 

Hangs flaming drawn above the heads of those 

Greed-driven men who do this monstrous thing; 

The everlasting wrath of God is poised. 

And men walk boldly on in fiendish wrong. 

Unknowing, unafraid! 



44 



AWAKENING 

With all the nights to grow around me, 

And bitterness of hours foregone, 
With low deceit to stoop and wound me, 

To-night, my heart, the years seem lone! 

And all the vows my lips have made. 
And all of love that brims your eyes. 

Is false — and Truth is never paid — 
Yet had we deemed the world our prize! 

Lean years to pass, forsworn of laughter, 

With icy hand may touch my heart, 
But 'though we quaff Love's draught — what after? 

There is no Love with Truth apart. 



45 



VIOLA GORDON HERE'S TO YOU! 

Oh, here's to you, Viola Gordon! 
Your laughing eyes and blue. 

Your siren's smile, your witching hair- 
Viola Gordon, here's to you! 

I've pledged my faith in sparkling fizz, 
I've steeped my heart in wine. 

All to your star, Viola Gordon- 
Long may its radiance shine! 

Oh, here's to you, Viola Gordon! 
Full many brave hearts and true 

You've wrecked upon the Sea of Life- 
Viola Gordon, here's to you! 



46 



SURCEASE 

It is finished, the task of all the years, 

The never-ceasing toil; 
Her weary heart knew naught but tears. 

Her days were all turmoil. 

Smooth back the hair from her cold brow, 
And fold the work-worn hands; 

Her days of pain are ended now, 
She dwells in brighter lands. 

Ah, lay this rose upon her breast, — 

In life 'twas hers to give; — 
She is not dead, she only rests, 

And learns at last to live! 



47 



VAGUE REMEMBERINGS 

It was a song at eventide, 
Just when or where I cannot say; 

Only— it rings back through the years, 
That song of some forgotten day. 

Forgotten — yet remembered still; 

It once had thrilled my sleeping heart. 
Would that I knew the refuge where 

Memory, unbidden, dwells apart! 

Remembering, can I forget; 

Was it of pleasure, grave, or gay? 
There is so much that I regret. 

So many years have slipped away. 

Leaving an ache, a pain, perhaps,— 
Naught else than that this life along— 

Yet I would fain recall to-night 
Who sang that long-forgotten song! 



48 



WE SHALL RETURN NO MORE 

We shall return no more along 

This way; passing, a phantom throng, 

We fall apart, each one alone. 

And none may say where we have gone. 

And Life is this, —a starless night, 
A crying toward a distant light 
With none to answer when we cry, 
A laugh that whispers with a sigh. 

And, parting, we shall meet no more 
On mist-dimmed paths beside the shore. 
Where, creeping blind in childlike trust, 
We mated souls with flesh and dust. 

Our day is done and all our earth 
Sleeps into death — or is it birth?— 
And moulders low — and nothing more! 
Who knows what lies beyond that door? 



49 



A PRAYER 

God, to-night to Thee, 
Master of Life's eternity, 

1 make this humble prayer: 
Give me but light to see, 

To know what lies behind the mask. 
If this friend be true, this joy a grief, 
But hidden by the dross; 
To-night— God, how much I ask! — 
The guidance of Thy gentle hand. 
The knowledge of the pure and true, 
The fear of all that's false- 
Let me but understand! 



50 



LOVE'S SACRIFICE 

Were I a king on a gilded throne, 
And you alone in the world so wide, 

I would fain despise the things men prize 
To pluck Life's thistles at your side. 

Were you a Goddess on the heights, 
And I of the reeking depths below, 

I would dare Death's guile to win your smile, 
And find joy with the pain, I know. 

To be with thee through all the years, 
'Tis this my prayer, of heart, of mind; 

And though Fate bring no crown of king. 
The throne of Love, your breast, I find! 



51 



A MAN^S CHARITY 

That I would find the flower unbruised 

'Mid all the filth and stain, 
It was too much that I should hope— 

For life has brought you pain! 

And I had loved you, years before— 
The world was young those days! — 

Yet still I wonder that you found 
So many tortuous ways. 

Life held her hand, with blessings filled; 

'Twas yours the choice at last. 
You laughed, and went your careless way- 

Must I forget the past? 

Those years cry back? A sweet young girl, 

Pure as a summer morn, 
Your feet found only sunlit ways, 

Your roses knew no thorn. 

The tale of tears— what need of words? 

Your eyes, unasked, may tell, — 
A wanton toy of wayward men, 

Shut in a man-made hell! 



52 



It is not mine to blame. No doubt 
A prayer from me were lost. 

Only— the thing seems stranger still, 
For you had known the cost. 

You must have known that once begun, 

'Twas this, this to the end. 
And calling me to-night, was it. 

You thought, to find a friend? 

You ask my aid? The thing is done; 

What hope is there in me? 
The world forgives very much; not this- 

That, surely you must see! 

You could not blot those years away. 
For men would always know. 

'Tis done; I would that I could aid; 
Good-by! There — don't cry so! 



53 



MORAL WEAKNESS 

Weak, weak! A brain to know, 
Without a will to do; a power 
To see the thing that is, sharp-drawn, 
Unfettered, clear, without the strength 
Of moral choice! 

Vision to grasp, to know the good, 
The bad, to clarify life's web 
Of doubt, joined with a weakness that 
Fights but to lose, a will that fails 
Beneath the first foul blow of Fate. 

Weak, weak! The losing years,— 
Desires, temptations srought in deeds, 
A failing grip, a narrowed scope, 
A weakening of mind to flesh 
Unleashed,— the years of rotting ruin, 
Decadence, death in life, they stretch 
Ahead, to meet, to live, to lose; 
And at the end— a closing door! 



54 



A LETTER FROM YOU 

A letter from you is like a ray 
Of sunlight through an April rain, — 

Promise of some fair future day, 
, Remembrance of an old, old pain. 

A letter from you,— a clear, bright smile, 

Your laughing eyes, violet blue, 
Luring in the old gay style 

Through the haze of dreams, — a letter from you! 



55 



A DEAD DAY 

This day, I fear, has been but dead to me. 
I woke with dawn, and found no joy in all 
The morning songs the birds were trilling in 
The orchard trees; the sun a-peep between 
The window blinds but added to my mood 
Of surly boorishness ; the breakfast meal 
I ate in sullen quietude, and to 
The cheer of those about the board I brought 
No answering smile; outdoors I met the world 
All out of tune, and when I reached my desk 
I found the routine work but galled the more 
Upon my raw and fretted spirit. Thus 
The whole day went, till now to-night beside 
My fire I see the reason why the hours 
Have lain so useless on my hands; the world 
Has rendered me that which I gave to it. 
Not one jot more, and I have given naught. 



56 



A BLITHESOME KNIGHT WAS HE 

He rode down from the Mountain Crest, 

And a blithesome knight was he, 
His heart was set to a world-end quest, 

His colors flew jauntily; 
And gaily he sang old minstrel lays. 

And his steed pranced gaily along; 
The years brought hard and tortuous ways. 

But the road was sweet for song. 

Over the plains in springtime bloom, 

With birds and flowers of May; 
Beneath the crags of the Hills of Doom, 

By the pits of Hell's Highway; 
Down the rose-fringed paths that lead to the sea, 

Where sunset zephyrs toy. 
He journeyed along with a heart care-free. 

And a laugh of sparkling joy. 

A gallant knight was he and bold. 

He met each foeman's lance; 
In summer's heat and winter's cold 

He followed the flag of Chance; 
He followed whither the flag should lead. 

Nor ever questioned why. 
His only friends his faithful steed. 

And the blue of God's clear sky. 

57 



He braved by night wild mountain streams 

That roar down from the west; 
He stormed by day the Castles of Dreams 

Wherein were found his quest; 
The years for him held never a sigh, 

The highway never a thorn, 
In all the nights his only cry 

Was for another morn. 

Through all the world he gaily passed— 

And slowly his heart learned pain— 
Till dread Age brought his feet at last 

To the old time paths again; 
And climbing upward, sad, dry-eyed, 

To the long-left Mountain Crest 
He paused, and looked, and wondering cried: 

'' 'Tis here— my far-sought quest!'' 



58 



MANY MANY YEARS AGO 

We wandered, you and I, 
Across a field where roses blow, 
(Many, many years ago!) 
And as we laughed the moments by 
You murmured, sweet and low, 
Sighing, *1 love you so!'' 
(Many, many years ago!) 

Beside a crystal brook. 
Where willows whispered to and fro, 
(Many, many years ago!) 
You knelt upon the grass, and took 
A dying flower; and, ''Oh!" 
You cried, ''Shall love die so?'' 
(Many, many years ago!) 

Ah, they are gone, those days 

Of sunlit fields where roses blow! 

(Many, many years ago!) 

My feet have strayed on darker ways 

Than your young heart could know. 

Breathing, "I love you so!" 

(Many, many years ago!) 



59 



THE POET'S PLAINT 

When I have laid my pen aside, 
No more to chronicle the tide 

Of man's existence, —toil and play, 
Blended and woven into one 

Long, ever-changing, mystic lay,— 
When it is finished, the work begun 

And ended with the scorn of men, 

Tell me, ye who have sneered, what then? 

Will they who scoffed speak low my name 
Throughout the streets, no sting of shame 

To drive the red blood to a brow 
Where sat before but greed of gain; 

And will men gather to hear how 
One, whose life was priceless pain. 

Had found the word that men denied. 

Had sung unheard, unknown had died? 



60 



LOST ON THE DESERT 

Gray dunes and barren, shifting sands, 
And a hot wind from the west; 

Overhead a burning sky— 
And, oh, for an hour of rest! 

No living thing in all the waste 
Save my weary horse and me; 

And the molten sun drops down the sky, 
And the stars crowd out to see. 

Lost, lost! And the throbbing night 
Comes on with a thin, pale moon, 

Wanton white as a harlot's throat, 
That sways to the wind's weird tune. 

No hope in all the trackless void— 
And the white of a dead man's bones !- 

And the ghost of all my wasted years 
Comes out and moans, and moans! 



61 



TO A FRIEND I HAVE NEVER MET 

We two have never met, and never will 
Perhaps, and yet to-night I feel that I 
Have known you many years, that in the past 
We twain have oft clasped hands, and felt the depth 
And fulness of that magic word— friendship. 

Wherefore I write to you to-night these crude 
But heartfelt lines, and in my soul I know 
There is a bond that reaches out across 
The void, sweeping aside the little rules 
Of petty man, and welds between us two 
The subtle link that draws together those 
Who know the light, and who can understand. 



62 



THE CRAVEN^S PART 

If I had loved you less, my heart, 

Loving as humans do, 
I could not play the craven's part, 

Finding your vows untrue. 

My world is one grand edifice. 
And you the fragile prop; 

To take your love away from this 
My universe would stop. 

And yet that love is false as hell. 
Your smile a serpent's lure; 

'Tis strange that I desire the shell, 
Knowing the heart impure! 

The craven's part is mine; I take 
You thus — what could be worse ?- 

How fair a thing was life to make- 
And you have wrought a curse! 



63 



ONE SHIP SAILS HOME 

Alas, together I launched the ships, 

My dream-ships out to sea; 
Alone to-day by the sounding shore, 

One ship sails home to me. 

One ship sails home to me to-day. 

Back through the blurring years. 
Sails back from the Land of Might Have Been, 

With freight of bitter tears. 

One ship was bound for the Isle of Hope— 
Oh, where can that brave bark be? — 

One ship fared forth o'er the Sea of Sorrow, 
To-day she comes home to me. 

One ship sails back through the wasted years, 

With freight of searing pain; 
That brave bark tossed on the Sea of Hope, 

Will she never sail home again? 



64 



DAYBREAK 

The night is still, and o'er the earth a dark 

And voiceless mystery, half boding, lies. 
It is the hour of coming day; now mark 

The stars that one by one fade from the skies, 
As on the hills appears the dawn's first gold. 

By brazen day the night's black flag is furled. 
And to the east my eager eyes behold 

The sun's first rays flash o'er the sleeping world. 



66 



DEAD 

And you are dead to-night! 

And all the years 
Rush down from out the golden past like some 
Great panorama spread, a mystic sheet 
That throbs and flames with multi-colored light— 
And then, a blank and barren wall across 
The sky, a sudden shutting in of night. 
And this dumb feeling of eternal loss. 

My whirling brain gropes back into the years, 
The dimly vistaed aisles of years long gone, 
And meets the phantom smile of other days 
Of bright and glorious hope, the days that meant 
The testing of a love that should endure 
Through ages countless as the sands that drift 
Beside the sea — and, oh, the yearning ache 
Of heart that cries back to those vanished years. 
Those dim, dead years of light and love! 

And now. 
Across the lowering sky, a blank, bare wall! 

And you are dead to-night! The brow that flushed 
But yesterday with warm and throbbing life 
Is white and cold; the lips that whispered low, 
Sweet words of softly murmured love are still 
And silent as the grave; the little hands 

66 



Are folded o'er the quiet and pulseless breast. 
They've placed a wreath of lilies on your head, 
Of cold, white lilies. 

Dead! And all the days, 
The golden days that stretch out to the past, 
Have crumbled into mocking nothingness 
Before my eyes. And God is not, and Life 
Is but a cry, a voiceless echo of 
A cry that floats out o'er the weary wastes 
Of Time, and whispers to the wandering winds 
That moan through all the everlasting years! 



67 



PAX VOBISCUM 

Still, blind darkness of the night; 

Quivering, low, in the valley afar, 
Luring gleam of a distant light— 
My guiding star! 

Whisper and stir of winds that move 
At night in the mystic, vast unknown; 
A touch of gold, clouds breaking above - 
Purity's throne! 

Sleep, and peace be in thy heart 
Through all life's dark and weary way! 
Thy chamber light— so near— apart— 
And dawns the day! 



SUNDERED 

Clustering white at your breast to-night, 

Lilies and violets blue— 
Is there no sigh as I say good-by, 

A long good-by to you? 

Never to know how the years may go, 

Or joy or measure of pain, 
In all your days on Earth's dark ways — 

Never to know you again! 

You stand to-night in the altar light— 
Ah, the days that went before! — 

Give heart and hand, 'tis Life's demand- 
And never to see you more! 



69 



SOMEWHERE THE DAY IS BRIGHT 

The world seems very dark to-night, 
Oh, very dark and drear, my love; 

But somewhere, dear, the day is bright. 
And skies are clear and blue above. 

Though wrong may triumph a little while, 
Right is not vanquished, never fear; 

And as we pass each wsary mile. 
Hour by hour the goal draws near. 

We need but trust, and, dear, we know 
That it will all at last come right; 

The way is dark, our steps are slow. 
But somewhere, love, the day is bright! 



70 



QUATRAINS 

I— Response 

The snows that strewed the winter wastes 
Are gone, like visions of the night; 

A warm south wind blows o'er the hills, 
And sudden violets spring to sight! 

II- A Brother To The Ox 

I saw a man in ball and chain 

Toiling above a mass of stone. 
A jagged edge cut deep his flesh; 

He gave no heed, nor once made moan. 

Ill— Futility 

A little boy stood beating at a door; 

And once he paused to cry his anguish through 
The lonely room ; but no one came with aid. 

And, sobbing, he began to beat anew. 

IV — A Parting 

A lightly spoken word, a smile; 
Here part the roads. A laughing while 
We journeyed hand in hand. The end. 
Who knows? Good-by— you were a friend! 



71 



V— IncompreheTision 

I shot a doe one winter's dawn, 
My heart set to the hunter's prize — 

From out the brush stepped a little fawn, 
And gazed at me with wondering eyes. 

VI— Contrast 

I dreamed that I had found the land 

Of Peace and Joy complete; 
I woke and heard the mob's hoarse cry 

For bread down in the street. 



VII— Tears 

As on the calmest day there comes 
A sudden rush of rain and wind. 

So in Life's hour of deepest joy 
A trace of tears oft we may find. 



72 



L'ENVOI 

If I have made a few gay songs, 

Singing, as Life has bid; 
If I have found a few bright truths 

Beneath the evil hid; 
If I have cheered an aching heart 

That faltered by the road, 
Or made the rough way seem less hard, 

Easing a pilgrim's load; 
If I have served, in hours of stress. 

To calm some fretting brain, 
To lighten some o'er-heavy cross, 

Or soothe some burning pain, 
I am well pleased to leave it thus 

Finished, my humble task; 
Having relieved some brother's need. 

No greater boon I ask. 

These songs will perish; the feeble hand 

That touched the pulsing string 
Will cease to quicken with the years, 

The joyous note will ring 
No more along the evening way. 

As violets, dew-sprung. 
That bless the banks of early May, 

While summer yet is young, 



73 



And fade when June has brought the rose, 

Their modest duty done, 
Losing, though memory holds them close, 

The chalice scarcely won— 
Let these songs bring but one hour's cheer 

To one sad heart, forspent. 
Then may they die, not born in vain. 

And I am well content. 



74 



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